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If I survived the next few days, I would look back with a kind of befuddled wonder. The odds of staying alive were so low, if I thought about those odds, I’d be stuck here for what little remained of my life,
frozen in fear.
And so I trudged on, following the Dytur River east. I’d need to find a place to cross and continue to work my way farther southeast toward the city.
If I’d been prepared for this trip, I could have crossed the river near my own village. It would have added a few days to my trip, but I would’ve avoided most other travelers. But the cooler temperature and lack of food would be a death sentence. So I needed to get to Mistrun—one of the few settlements large enough to be called a town north of the river. There, I could steal food, a weapon, maybe even some boots.
The last time I’d visited Mistrun, I’d been a child. My parents had both been alive. At least, the people who’d called themselves my parents. Guilt, fury, sorrow, all of it wound together until I pushed that thought away.
At the time, they’d been debating where we would move next, and Papa had thrown up his hands, declaring he would be happy wherever his family
was.
Grief curled under my ribs and kicked out at the thought of my affable father. I missed him like a lost limb, and yet my entire childhood was a lie. I wrapped my arms around myself and rocked.
No. I would fall apart later. If I gave in to the yawning hole opening up inside me, I’d lie down here and never get up again. My ability to survive would depend on making smart decisions. One wrong move out here, and I was dead.
I had to get away from the river soon. The king’s guards would expect me to stay close to it if I was still alive. Although, surely, after learning I’d fallen into that freezing river, they wouldn’t expect me to have survived. The sun was slipping down behind the trees, taking the last of the late- afternoon warmth with it. Soon, I’d have to find somewhere to curl up and hide for the night.
What had happened to Mama after she’d pushed me off that cliff? The king’s guards flashed into my mind, and I forced them out. Where was Tibris? My brother had always inspired loyalty, thanks to his insistence on healing anyone—regardless of their ability to pay. Maybe one of the people he’d helped had given him some food or directed him to shelter for the night.
Pain howled through my foot as I kicked a rock. I sucked in a breath and glowered down at it. My toe screamed at me.
“Well,” a voice said. “Who do we have here?”
Dread coiled like a snake in my belly. I turned. Another reason to stay away from the river. It masked the sound of someone stalking me.
The man was tanned and clean-shaven. He stood several foot-spans taller than me, with broad shoulders and thick thighs. He carried a bow, his shirt straining over the kinds of muscles men attained when they spent their days hauling slaughtered deer back to their villages. He eyed me, and his hand drifted to the long knife on his hip.
A hunter. The fact that he was here meant I was closer to Mistrun than I could’ve hoped. It also meant that this man was well used to bringing down his prey and dragging it home for payment.
I was dead.
“I know who you are,” he said softly. “News travels fast to Mistrun.” His mouth twisted as he took me in, barefoot and shivering. “I’ll make it fast, little lamb. You won’t even know it happened.”
Standing still, I let him approach. My shoulders slumped, and a tear trickled down my cheek. Some of the tension left his face. He likely thought I’d be easier to slaughter than a deer.
I was weak, weary, and weaponless. Unless I came up with a plan in the next few moments, I’d be his easiest kill yet.
A dull fury took up residence in my chest. I’d survived that river, only to die here?
The world narrowed until all I could see was his face. The hunter took a step toward me, and beneath the pity, I caught the feral pleasure in his eyes. This man had been bred for hunting. Even if he promised me an easy death, he’d still enjoy it.
I wouldn’t make it easy for him.
Something moved to my left. His horse stood just foot-spans away. I brushed my foot against a rock to my right. My eyes met the hunter’s.
I’d learned a few things during my lessons with Tibris and his friends. The most important was that no matter how much I trained, if one of the men pinned me, I was finished. They simply weighed more than me. This hunter was much larger than Tibris and his friends. His muscles made theirs look almost feminine in comparison.
“There you go,” the hunter soothed me. “It will all be over soon.” A sick light entered his eyes. He was probably mentally spending the gold he’d receive for my death. He’d get more gold for bringing me to the king’s guards alive, but I had a feeling this man wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from killing me for that long.
Another step closer. The blade of his knife glinted in the last of the sunlight.
Now.
I crouched. My hand found the rock. It was rough, heavier than I’d imagined. The hunter bared his teeth at me and took another step.
I launched the rock in the direction of the horse, careful not to hit it.
Distantly, I was aware of the horse rearing, of the hunter’s curse as he whirled. But I was already turning, desperately scanning the forest floor.
There.
The branch was too heavy. Long and unwieldy. A bad choice. But the hunter was still turned, torn between seeing to his horse, which was trotting away, and immediately killing me.
He pivoted back in my direction, and I swung the branch.
It hit him in the side of the face, enough to make him stumble.
Screaming, I hit him again. He fell to his knees, one hand coming up to protect his face, the other pulling his knife. Blood poured from his nose.
I hit him again.
He fell onto his back. My chest heaved. His eyes rolled back in his head. Was he truly unconscious? I lifted my branch once more.
I hesitated.
Bile crawled up my throat. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t a killer. He groaned.
I let the branch come down.
Sobs shook my body as I hit him once more. Blood sprayed from his nose. I dropped next to him, and my hand found his knife.
It was him or me.
I buried it in his throat and pulled the blade free. Liquid hit my face, and I gagged and jumped away. Leaning over, I vomited bile. Tears streamed down my face.
Stumbling, shaking, I slipped down the bank to the river. My feet didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. I barely felt the icy water as I splashed my face and washed the knife clean.
Feeling began to return as I climbed back up the bank to the hunter’s body. I didn’t have the time or the strength to bury him. The ground was half frozen, and I needed to move.
His face had already lost its color. Even in the dim light, it was obvious he was dead. And that he’d died a bad, bloody death.
My stomach roiled again, but I pushed it down. Crouching next to his body, I found his coin purse and cut it free.
Apparently there were no depths I wouldn’t sink to in order to stay breathing.
Rustling sounded, and I froze, tightening my hand around the knife. Dark eyes met mine.
The horse.
“Uh, I’m sorry about the whole rock thing. It was all I could think of at the time.”
If a horse could scowl, this one did.
I slowly got to my feet. “You and I? We could be a team.”
I’d travel much, much faster with a horse. Approaching slowly, I made soothing sounds as I shuffled through the forest. It was getting so dark now
that I could barely see.
“There’s a pretty boy.” I ducked my head. “Girl. Sorry. Either way, you’re gorgeous.”
The horse didn’t exactly look like she trusted me, but she allowed me to stroke her. The knot in my gut began to unravel, even as my hands continued to shake.
I reached into the hunter’s saddlebag, pulling out his food stores. Bread.
The hunter had bread, an apple, and—wrapped in a soft cloth—a valeo.
My breath caught. The sweet fruit was rare, often almost impossible to find. Papa used to travel to other villages a few times a year when I was young. I’d loved it when Papa had gone southeast, because the villages near the coast were much more likely to have my precious valeo available.
Tibris had liked it best when Papa went north, where some of the best woodworking artisans lived. Papa would always bring back tiny wooden animals, and by the time he died, we’d each had a collection on the small tables next to our beds. I’d give almost anything to have one of them in my pocket right now. Just one small wooden piece to remember him by.
Lifting the fruit to my nose, I inhaled. Memories rushed at me. My father’s smile, the way he’d pretend he hadn’t been able to find any valeo and then pull one from his pocket. The time right before he’d died when I’d spent a precious few coppers on a valeo for him.
What would he think of me now?
The horse shuffled, and I pushed the memories away. I now had bread, fruit, water, and a horse. All it had taken was for me to murder a man.
Enough.
Grimly, I pulled the saddlebag completely off the horse. I’d eat just enough to get me through the night, and then I’d lead the horse on foot. I couldn’t risk traveling far in the dark. If the horse broke a leg, I’d be back where I started.
“We’ll get along just fine,” I murmured. “I’ll eat, we’ll walk far enough to find shelter” —and away from the body behind me— “and then we’ll rest. Tomorrow will be better than today.”
Something snapped behind me. I jolted.
The horse bucked to the right. Cursing, I reached for the reins, but it was too late.
The horse bolted. She had already been spooked, and I’d scared her further. Now she was frantic, galloping in the dark.
She wasn’t coming back.
I sat on the forest floor and sniffled, tearing off chunks of bread and stuffing them into my mouth. The bread was stale, but in that moment, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
A dull fury took up residence in my gut. I never asked for this.
I would have given the gods my magic a thousand times over.
They were the ones who’d rejected my offering when I was just days old, leaving me in possession of my power. I would never know the reason, but I’d now be hunted for the rest of my life solely because the gods had decided they didn’t want my power.
The unfairness of it all took my breath away.
I fisted my hands and rose to my feet. I would stay alive simply to spite them.
I would live, and when I died, old and content in my own bed, I would demand an explanation from those gods. And if they decided to make me burn in my afterlife, at least I would have sucked all the joy and sorrow and love from this life first.
Glancing up, I let out a shaky breath. Above my head, stars gleamed in the night sky. More than once today, I’d thought I’d never get to see them again. But here I was, suddenly in awe of the way they glittered.
I’d survived. It was all I could ask for.
Stalking back to the hunter’s body, I rifled in the dark until my hands met cool wood. His bow. I was a terrible shot. Truly awful. But I took it anyway, along with his arrows.
My head felt as if it had been stuffed with Tibris’s healing bandages. I was so tired I could no longer hold a thought for more than a few moments. But I made myself move, counting my steps to keep myself awake.
Word of the bounty on my head had already gotten to Mistrun. I couldn’t risk stopping to steal more food or better clothes. But I could travel across the bridge. Now, when it was dark and cold, and there would be few people crossing. It was my best chance.
Finally, finally, the bridge came into view. And so did the guard standing watch.
Despair rose, sharp and swift. I shoved it down. Of course they’d posted a guard on this bridge. Anyone planning to flee south would either have to
attempt to cross the freezing river, traverse the Normathe Mountains, or take the bridge from Mistrun.
If only I’d washed up on the other side of the river.
You weren’t going to wash up anywhere. You were half dead, remember?
Oh, I remembered. And I remembered the distant, bored look in those dark green eyes when the mercenary told Galon to leave me for dead.
If nothing else, my fury would keep me warm over the coming days.
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The guard didn’t look very old. He paced back and forth in an obvious attempt to keep himself alert. I studied his movements. The fact that the guard was young wasn’t good for me. Young meant strong.
If I’d practiced more with a crossbow, I could’ve killed him from here. I sighed. I’d been on the run for mere hours, and already, I was contemplating murder as easily as contemplating breaking my fast in the morning. I should probably be concerned about that.
Unfortunately, my odds of hitting the guard from this far away—in the dark—were about as high as Asinia winning a game of King’s Web.
My heart ached at the thought of my best friend. Did she think I was dead? Did she hate me now for being…corrupt?
Later. I’d think about that later.
The guard had a sword on his hip, and he moved like he knew what he was doing. But he was alert enough that he was clearly new to this kind of posting. And new guards were more likely to be paying attention.
But this guard had likely been recruited by force from one of the poorer villages and sent to the city for basic training before being deployed. With any hope, he’d see a poor, defenseless young woman and picture his sister. I surveyed the bridge. The railing was just above the guard’s hips.
Okay.
I shoved the hunter’s knife into the saddlebag. The crossbow wasn’t a problem—I looked like any desperate woman who’d gone hunting and gotten lost.
Taking a moment to think about all the ways life had recently wronged me, I allowed my eyes to fill. It didn’t take much to give in to the sorrow that wanted to drag me down.
I choked out a sob. “Excuse me?”
The guard jolted, blushed, and frowned in quick succession. His hand slid to his sword, and I held up my hands, another sob leaving my throat.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
That told me all I needed to know. Just a few years of service would have toughened the guard until his first words would have been Who are you? A few more years, and he would have immediately ordered me to lie down on the ground before stripping me of my weapons.
“N-no.”
I’d always looked pitiful when I cried. It was one of the reasons I hated it so much. I let my lower lip tremble, and the guard took his hand off the hilt of his sword.
“I was in the f-forest, looking for food for my f-family,” I sniffled, stepping closer. “I got lost. And then…”
“It’s okay.” The guard took in my torn clothes and the blood on them, and I saw the moment he came to the logical conclusion.
“There’s a healer in this town.” The guard leaned against the bridge railing and nodded toward Mistrun. Even as young as he was, he didn’t offer to take me there himself. Instead, he reached for the pouch hanging from his belt, pulling out a green trowth stone.
Fuck.
He would use that stone to contact his commander, who would immediately order my arrest.
My hand itched for the knife in my saddlebag.
And the hunter’s shocked, accusing face flickered through my mind. Real tears spilled from my eyes. I didn’t want to hurt this young guard. “Please don’t,” I said, nodding to the trowth stone. “I…I’d prefer
privacy.”
He frowned, but his hand drifted away from the stone.
“I would escort you to the healer myself, but I can’t leave my posting.”
“I think I would prefer to find a healer in the next village.” I nodded to the other side of the river, still inching closer to the guard.
He frowned, clearly wondering why I would continue walking in my condition.
He looked at me again. Realization flickered through his eyes, and his hand landed on his sword.
But I was already launching myself at him.
If he’d been a woman, it wouldn’t have worked. We had a lower balance point. And if the guard had been standing a single step farther from the railing, he would have used that sword to run me through.
But I dropped into an almost-squat and pushed up and forward. He let out a cry as he fell.
Splash.
Regret instantly froze my every muscle. No. I’d survived. He would too.
You survived because one of those brutes fished you out of the river.
No. The guard was bigger than me. More body weight meant it would take him longer to freeze.
I didn’t have a moment to reassure myself about his chances of survival. His cry had pierced the night, echoing over the rushing water below, and anyone nearby would likely come to investigate.
I turned and sprinted across the bridge toward the forest on the opposite side. Not hearing an immediate shout, I took a deep breath but kept running until the canopy above obscured the stars.
In the darkness, exhaustion made me stumble, and I needed to find a hiding place. The guard’s absence would soon be noticed. If he survived, that small green stone could spell my doom.
So I continued onward. I knew when I veered off the path because the underbrush scratched and tore at my ankles. Time became meaningless until I collapsed to my knees.
“Just a little more,” I muttered. Forcing myself up, I scanned my surroundings. It was so dark that all I could do was leave the trail and crawl through the undergrowth until I found a spot to lean against a tree trunk. Wrapping my cloak around me, I waited for dawn.
